Never Again
by autumn midnights
Summary: 'It only took him a second to realize that the figure in the doorway was not Walburga or Orion, but Regulus.' Regulus and Sirius's last conversation before Sirius runs away. Rated T for language and mentions of past child abuse.


_Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter._

_Dedication: Written for a beautiful misfortune, courtesy of the Gift-Giving Extravaganza 2014._

_Author's note: This is based on the assumption that Sirius ran away during the Christmas holidays of his sixth year at Hogwarts. It's never been specified beyond 'when he was sixteen' and so I figured that this was a logical time for him to run away._

_Warning for mentions of past child abuse. _

* * *

His trunks were packed.

Sirius had managed to fit everything he cared about into those two trunks. It hadn't been that difficult - his parents generally didn't enjoy lavishing him with gifts now that he wasn't their perfect son. Most of the things they bought him were things that he needed: the books and supplies for Hogwarts, dress robes, everyday robes, and other useful things. He didn't get presents like Regulus - he hadn't truly gotten presents from his parents in years.

He reached over, grabbing one of the trunks' handles and trying to lift it, but that motion sent a jolt of pain up his arm and into his shoulder. Lifting his trunk usually wasn't that difficult - Sirius was lean, but strong - but any exertion was challenging after dealing with a few rounds of curses from his parents, and tonight had been especially awful.

In hindsight, maybe calling the entire Black family 'a pack of inbred lunatics' had been a bit of a stupid move.

His side throbbed, and he sat down on his bed, gingerly lifting up his shirt. An angry red line stood out against his otherwise-pale skin. _That's going to scar. _He could always tell - after sixteen years in this goddamn house, he had gotten pretty good at dealing with so-called 'minor' injuries.

Just as he readjusted his clothes, the door to his bedroom opened, and Sirius froze. _Shit. _That was unexpected - both of his parents were usually out like a light by eleven-thirty, and it was well past midnight now. It only took him a second to realize that the figure in the doorway was not Walburga or Orion, however, but Regulus.

"What are you doing?" Regulus stared openmouthed at the trunks. He looked even younger than his fourteen years; his hair was messy, and he was wearing a matching pajama shirt and trousers that looked like something a nine-year-old would wear. "Are you - Sirius, _no._"

Sirius rubbed his forehead. "I've dealt with this shit for sixteen years. I'm done, okay?" He kept his voice low, nervous about the possibility of waking his parents. If they caught him in the process of running away, there would be even more hell to pay. Sirius had never been punished twice in the same day or night before, and he really didn't want to change that now.

"Mum's old-fashioned," Regulus said, his voice taking on the same quiet tone. Sirius was thankful for that - as of right now, it didn't seem as if Regulus was going to go run to their parents and tell them that Sirius was leaving. That was a small blessing, at least. "She thinks that she can get you to think the same way as she does. She just comes on a little strong."

"_Comes on a little strong?_" Sirius barked a laugh. He stood up, pulling Regulus in and closing the door behind them. He cast a silencing charm before sitting down on his bed again, feeling a little safer. "Regulus, 'coming on a little strong' is raising your voice and lecturing. Cursing me and telling Father to do the same is something else entirely." He shook his head. "This isn't right, and you know it. Families aren't supposed to -" He let the sentence trail off.

"Families are supposed to stick together," Regulus said pointedly.

Sirius stared at him. "Don't act like you want me here _now. _Not when you've spent the past three, four years looking the other way whenever either one of them decides to work me over for the simple reason that I'm not like the rest of you," he said viciously. His hands clenched into fists. Every time - every single goddamn time, Regulus had just ignored what was going on. He hadn't even asked them to stop, no matter what they were doing.

Sirius couldn't ever remember either one of their parents treating their precious Regulus like that.

"Why do you have to push their buttons, then?" Regulus's voice was filled with as much venom as Sirius's had been. "Why do you have to do things and say things that you know will get you in trouble? Why don't you just keep your mouth shut around them?"_  
_

"Because everything they say pisses me off," Sirius said. "Because I don't want to hear their pureblood supremacist bullshit every five seconds. Because I don't want to act like I agree with anything they say, even if it saves my own skin." He took his wand from his bedside table and held it loosely in his hand; Regulus watched him warily.

"Why are you leaving now, then?" Regulus asked, his eyes still on Sirius's wand. Sirius could tell he was making his younger brother nervous. _Good. __He deserves to be nervous about what someone's going to use their wand for. Merlin knows I'm always nervous about that in this house. _

"I'm almost seventeen," Sirius said. "I know I can find a place to stay for the Christmas holidays. And by the time summer rolls around, I'll be of age, and I can get myself a flat somewhere." He stood up, flicking his wand at the two trunks so that they hovered in midair. "I'm leaving. If you dare tell our parents what I'm doing before I'm safely out of this house...let's just say that my friends will make your life a living hell when you return to Hogwarts. And that's not a threat, that's a promise."

"Why did it have to come to this?" Regulus asked.

Sirius didn't know how to answer. He opened the door as quietly as he could, and stepped into the corridor, the trunks bobbing along beside him. The house was dark and silent as he made his way down the stairs; once he was out the front door, he breathed a silent sigh of relief. The air was freezing-cold - he could see his breath puffing out in front of him, and he was beginning to regret not wearing thicker clothing - but it felt amazing. He was finally free - and he would never step foot in that house again.


End file.
